Today I remember to respect myself and my environment.
One activity my daughter and I enjoy together is theater. Otherwise we clash like most teenagers and their parents, but give us theater together and we are inextricably bound. So every year we take a pilgrimage to Ashland, Oregon where, like gluttons, we consume Shakespeare plays, then modern plays in excessive amounts. This year, it's seven plays in five days. We've just finished watching "Twelfth Night," "Hamlet," and "Merchant of Venice" in a row - now we're headed into a new play, "Ruined" and then a stage version of "Pride and Prejudice." My husband checked in for a couple of days, but after the 31/2 hour version of "Hamlet" he'd had enough.
It occurs to me that part of the magic in enjoying my daughter along with the plays is respect. As I respect her, and her being as separate and quite independent from me, we can merge our sensibilities for the moments we watch the fictional dilemmas of the characters on the stage.
I'm working on extending that mutual respect into the rest of my environment. You can't after all merge with what is happening without respecting it first.
So, today's mantra is respect: my family, Lithia park where I've been jogging in the mornings, (if I don't stay on the path there, the signs warn of poison oak,) my own body and needs. Can I respect the ground below me? Can I respect my breath? Respect is necessary for appreciation.
Respect, respect, respect...and then I'm able to let go and merge.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Exceptionally Expansive - Always
Today I recognize that life is without limit,
that it is a beating, breathing movement, all inclusive, passionate, a living, on-going event. My cognition of what is happening is as expanded as I allow it to be. When I stay with the actual facts of what is happening, the miracle that is everyday, I see nothing but evidence of this expanded state of meta cognition.
Everything plays off everything else, there is a consistency in the way life works with more life, more passion, more constant being. Nature, the plants, my eyes, ears, lips, my heart beating blood, stardust, the trees - there's a consistency there that cannot be denied.
All that is pleasurable, all that is pain, is part of the the beating movement of the all, and I can feel it - the visceral, dynamic movement of what's going on, the beat, beat, beat of all our perceptions, and the realization, the glorious awakening to the fact that it is all the same, all as it is, and that is wonderful.
"Always" is the mantra for today: always expansive, always Eternal, never alone.
Explosive, exceptional expansion - passionate, dynamic, expressive Being.
Forever.
that it is a beating, breathing movement, all inclusive, passionate, a living, on-going event. My cognition of what is happening is as expanded as I allow it to be. When I stay with the actual facts of what is happening, the miracle that is everyday, I see nothing but evidence of this expanded state of meta cognition.
Everything plays off everything else, there is a consistency in the way life works with more life, more passion, more constant being. Nature, the plants, my eyes, ears, lips, my heart beating blood, stardust, the trees - there's a consistency there that cannot be denied.
All that is pleasurable, all that is pain, is part of the the beating movement of the all, and I can feel it - the visceral, dynamic movement of what's going on, the beat, beat, beat of all our perceptions, and the realization, the glorious awakening to the fact that it is all the same, all as it is, and that is wonderful.
"Always" is the mantra for today: always expansive, always Eternal, never alone.
Explosive, exceptional expansion - passionate, dynamic, expressive Being.
Forever.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Truth
Today I shift my perception slightly, just enough to see the Truth.
The last few days I've been noticing habits, my own conditioning, and how I repeat myself again and again in the way I've been interacting with everyone, even in the way I meditate. Have any of you noticed your own repetitive habits, also?
It's pretty stilted this repetition of conditioned behavior, like being stuck on the scratched part of a Dvd, that keeps going back to the same spot, the same scratch again and again, because the scratch has been ingrained that way. It takes some cleaning or a bit of serious rattling to shift off of the glitch, the scratch. The scratch is especially deep because of the repetition - we keep perceiving, interacting, refusing to see the same patterns over and over. They've become ingrained that way.
But now, there's a shifting that's happening because of our own awareness of what we've been doing. A friend of mine is studying the twelve step process of freeing oneself from addiction. I don't know much about that, but I suspect jostling one's self out of repetitive conditioning and patterns is a similar process.
Once we come out of our unaware dream, the patterns we've stuck ourselves in over time, we'll be thirsty for Truth.
So the prayer becomes one for refreshment:
We've been parched out her in this desert of illusion.
Help us get past our habits to what's Real.
Beyond movement, beyond space, beyond the time that isn't there,
Through all this please,
To You,
Holding me together, expanded and imploded.
I'm ready for the Eternal.
The last few days I've been noticing habits, my own conditioning, and how I repeat myself again and again in the way I've been interacting with everyone, even in the way I meditate. Have any of you noticed your own repetitive habits, also?
It's pretty stilted this repetition of conditioned behavior, like being stuck on the scratched part of a Dvd, that keeps going back to the same spot, the same scratch again and again, because the scratch has been ingrained that way. It takes some cleaning or a bit of serious rattling to shift off of the glitch, the scratch. The scratch is especially deep because of the repetition - we keep perceiving, interacting, refusing to see the same patterns over and over. They've become ingrained that way.
But now, there's a shifting that's happening because of our own awareness of what we've been doing. A friend of mine is studying the twelve step process of freeing oneself from addiction. I don't know much about that, but I suspect jostling one's self out of repetitive conditioning and patterns is a similar process.
Once we come out of our unaware dream, the patterns we've stuck ourselves in over time, we'll be thirsty for Truth.
So the prayer becomes one for refreshment:
We've been parched out her in this desert of illusion.
Help us get past our habits to what's Real.
Beyond movement, beyond space, beyond the time that isn't there,
Through all this please,
To You,
Holding me together, expanded and imploded.
I'm ready for the Eternal.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Healing - Here and Now
http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/greenspace/2010/06/gulf-oil-spill-pelicans.html
Every time I look at the damage from the massive oil spill off the Lousiana coast I cringe. In the link above, the Los Angeles Times shows a picture of a pelican, the state bird of Lousiana covered in oil, unable to move, desperately in need of rescue. Similar reports and photographs have surfaced of sea turtles and even dolphins - up to thirty have been reported dead from the effects of the oil spill to date.
It's easy to feel powerless when confronted with the situation and to feel as though the disaster off the coast there is beyond remedy, part of a random universe, evidence somehow that we are abandoned and alone. And that is when the words from "Bear Speaks":
"Feel free, feel my vibe, and we will heal the world,"
become striking and relevant.
Our revelation of our own power to heal comes from releasing the expectation that revelation does not relate to where we are. But it is in our daily routines, the millions of tiny, seemingly insignifacant actions happening on our part that revelation and healing will occur.
The shocking images of the wildlife in the gulf reveal to us our own physical connection to all that is being and alive on our planet. We must relate to what is occuring on an intimate, very physical, very intuitive level. We can hover all we want between the spiritual and our direct physical world, but ultimately we will have to go beyond our fears on a physical level, and realize we are entwined by definition of being alive, with everything that is occuring on our planet.
It's helpful for us to realize the complete texture of what is happening, to allow our relationship with our environment to go beyond the mental, and experience a depth of intimacy with our physical world that will allow us to recognize it as perfect, and thereby allow it to heal. It is important for us to commune with nature fully to experience its perfection. Then we can let go of our denial, our fear, and face the implications of what is happening, and embrace our own power to heal. Once we make the consious decision to relinquish control, we will see the truth of our surroundings and deepen our relationship with what is happening.
Realizing our own connection, the ecumenical nature of all being, will elevate us all.
Today I embrace the healing that is right here, now.
Here are more images, courtesy of National Geographic, of animals affected by the oil spill.
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2010/06/photogalleries/100608-gulf-oil-spill-environment-birds-animals-pictures/#gulf-oil-spill-killing-wildlife-brown-pelican-wings_21352_600x450.jpg
Every time I look at the damage from the massive oil spill off the Lousiana coast I cringe. In the link above, the Los Angeles Times shows a picture of a pelican, the state bird of Lousiana covered in oil, unable to move, desperately in need of rescue. Similar reports and photographs have surfaced of sea turtles and even dolphins - up to thirty have been reported dead from the effects of the oil spill to date.
It's easy to feel powerless when confronted with the situation and to feel as though the disaster off the coast there is beyond remedy, part of a random universe, evidence somehow that we are abandoned and alone. And that is when the words from "Bear Speaks":
"Feel free, feel my vibe, and we will heal the world,"
become striking and relevant.
Our revelation of our own power to heal comes from releasing the expectation that revelation does not relate to where we are. But it is in our daily routines, the millions of tiny, seemingly insignifacant actions happening on our part that revelation and healing will occur.
The shocking images of the wildlife in the gulf reveal to us our own physical connection to all that is being and alive on our planet. We must relate to what is occuring on an intimate, very physical, very intuitive level. We can hover all we want between the spiritual and our direct physical world, but ultimately we will have to go beyond our fears on a physical level, and realize we are entwined by definition of being alive, with everything that is occuring on our planet.
It's helpful for us to realize the complete texture of what is happening, to allow our relationship with our environment to go beyond the mental, and experience a depth of intimacy with our physical world that will allow us to recognize it as perfect, and thereby allow it to heal. It is important for us to commune with nature fully to experience its perfection. Then we can let go of our denial, our fear, and face the implications of what is happening, and embrace our own power to heal. Once we make the consious decision to relinquish control, we will see the truth of our surroundings and deepen our relationship with what is happening.
Realizing our own connection, the ecumenical nature of all being, will elevate us all.
Today I embrace the healing that is right here, now.
Here are more images, courtesy of National Geographic, of animals affected by the oil spill.
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2010/06/photogalleries/100608-gulf-oil-spill-environment-birds-animals-pictures/#gulf-oil-spill-killing-wildlife-brown-pelican-wings_21352_600x450.jpg
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Beauty
In Montana I was deluged with scene after scene of natural, true beauty: a mother doe and her fawns, wind through pine and aspen trees, the smiling faces of everyone else in that space surrounded by all of it. This particular photograph was taken by yogini Anne Jablonski of our friend Gayle Ross De Geurin last week. I'm calling it "Lady Hawk."
Back in Los Angeles I'm working on finding the beauty, maybe not as obviously green and natural, but nonetheless striking, in the city around me, buildings, street traffic, the faces of people not so obviously joyous as they go about their daily business in the city. I'm tuning into the feeling of myself and who I am here, now, back in my "normal" daily life.
In the meantime, there's this underlying insecurity with who I am that keeps coming up, emphasized over and over again by my teen aged daughter who keeps telling me that she is ugly. I may be biased, but she's got the most beautiful face in the world. And words whispered to me by the wind in Montana keep coming back to confirm that fact:
Blessed child, know that you are mine and you are beautiful.
Know that flowing from you from me into all is sacred, blessed, but ordinary at the same time.
Drop into the knowing with the safe assurance that you are home.
Allow yourself to be overwhelmed, swept away, and resurrected by your own loveliness.
I don't know why the wind kept telling me and everyone else that we were beautiful in Montana, but it sure is nice to be reminded that it is lovely out there, as we are lovely and loved inside.
Today I remember to remember the beauty.
Sometimes the search for that beauty can seem foolish. I am reminded of Herzog's intriguing film "Grizzly Man," but that search is always true.
http://www.newyorker.com/arts/reviews/film/grizzly_man_herzog
Monday, July 19, 2010
Everyday Sacred
I'm back in Los Angeles after another intense week in the Montana wilderness. The place has a wild edge to it that rattles me, inspires me, and never fails to impress upon me a sense of sacredness.
As usual, it was hard to head back to the city, but I'm realizing the sacredness in the ordinary now. "Everyday Sacred" is the phrase I'm looking for, realizing that it's a matter of carrying that sacredness inside me, and then it will spread to wherever I find myself and whoever I am with.
Feathered Pipe Ranch is a place of sacred sanctuary, like a recharge button for the lantern that is me, and I can use my experiences in the forest to carry me into my work back here in Los Angeles.
The ranch is truly a place of leadership and friendship as India Supera and her beloved guru intended - at least for me it works that way.
Everyday Sacred, carrying the experience within myself, keeping it there, and expanding it into a silent spread over all the frenzy here in this "real" life of traffic jams and deadlines. The affective purpose of a retreat is to let the silent spread extend to wherever you find yourself and whoever you are with , to every word you write, speak, every bit of food you take in your body, to all that is you.
The silent spread seems like a tall order, but you can't stay in Rivendale forever. By virtue of being alive you will have to embody being, and it is more enlightened, more peaceful, more appropriate to do that from a place of awareness.
It's good to be home.
As usual, it was hard to head back to the city, but I'm realizing the sacredness in the ordinary now. "Everyday Sacred" is the phrase I'm looking for, realizing that it's a matter of carrying that sacredness inside me, and then it will spread to wherever I find myself and whoever I am with.
Feathered Pipe Ranch is a place of sacred sanctuary, like a recharge button for the lantern that is me, and I can use my experiences in the forest to carry me into my work back here in Los Angeles.
The ranch is truly a place of leadership and friendship as India Supera and her beloved guru intended - at least for me it works that way.
Everyday Sacred, carrying the experience within myself, keeping it there, and expanding it into a silent spread over all the frenzy here in this "real" life of traffic jams and deadlines. The affective purpose of a retreat is to let the silent spread extend to wherever you find yourself and whoever you are with , to every word you write, speak, every bit of food you take in your body, to all that is you.
The silent spread seems like a tall order, but you can't stay in Rivendale forever. By virtue of being alive you will have to embody being, and it is more enlightened, more peaceful, more appropriate to do that from a place of awareness.
It's good to be home.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Compassion - The Ecumenical Nature of All Things
Today I remind myself to soften and embody kindness the best I can.
It didn't start very balanced, my day. I went to my usual coffee shop to write, but I wasn't sure where I was going with my latest story, and I was hit with the anticipation of my upcoming trip to Montana. Several of my dearest yoga friends gather every year this time of year at the Feathered Pipe Ranch to practice; camping out there was where I first conceived of the idea for Bear Speaks. I leave Friday again for that place only this year I am staying in Sai Condo, a cabin below the bear caves instead of a tent. I get nervous when I get excited like this - I can almost smell the pine cone smell of the place. I'm hoping this year I'll be able to get the missing pieces out on paper to my current story. I tend to write easily out in those woods.
People in the coffee shop are bickering all around me - it's unbelievable really. The couple at the table next to me argues about their retirement. There's another writer in the back room talking about her writing and why she doesn't want to make changes for her editor on her cell phone. I put down my pen. I'm too much of a mess to head to Montana this year; I haven't had time for a hair cut, my toe nail polish is chipped. Maybe I should cancel the trip on account of chipped nail polish and a sore neck. I must have slept funny on it last night.
I'm not sure where kindness and compassion might bring me today, but I guess I can give it a shot, let go of my fear for a bit and write something. At least then I'm allowing whatever is meant to happen to happen.
I don't need to tighten about a trip to see friends. Whoever heard of someone being nervous about visiting friends? But it's been a couple years. Last year I had to cancel my trip at the last minute because of a dizzy spell and a migraine. I recognize it's pointless to meet the world, to try to accomplish anything when I am tight. It's got to be more effective anyways to approach everything from a place of compassion.
There comes a point where we've gotten so used to interacting with each other from tightness and fear, that we almost don't know how to be with one another without it. That's what makes me nervous about meeting my yoga friends the end of the week; the only way I know how to be with them is if I am wide open, compassionate is the right word I suppose, and I'm not sure if I can sustain that for a whole week. But the love is the Truth of where we are, so anything less than that is just a repeat of bad habits, in appropriate conditioning.
So I'm headed back to Montana. I don't know what will come of a sustained open interaction with the world, with being with myself, but I'm willing to try. I'm willing to be in the place of Truth as much as I am able.
That's a pretty good mantra for today: open compassion into the ecumenical nature of all things. We should all probably go for it.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Wonder
It's pretty quiet this morning on my street after last night's ruckus. Lots of kids live in my neighborhood, and they spent most of last night setting off fireworks. We could see flashes of light from the celebration down at the beach, not too far from our house also. It was loud; my cats cowered inside, at one point diving under the sofa.
Now that it's quiet, still, I can sit in meditation and get still myself. When I let myself stay that way, unruffled, I get this sense of wonder. It's worth it to stay completely open like this, and stick with what's real.
I feel as if I can sense everything in the stillness here, and as I do I'm aware of this overriding sense of conscious knowing, inside myself, but on the outside too. Here, always, always, connected to the fullness of life even when it feels like I am alone.
Why would any of us ever feel isolated, orphaned, as we sometimes do, when that state is not what's actually happening? Whether we like it or not we're here, alive, hooked into everything around us, and that's a pretty powerful feeling.
Collectively we have the power to create and destroy. Try it today. Even if you think you have no creative power, test it out. Approach the world around you with soft love. See if you can beat out harmony, comfort and acceptance in any situation you find yourself today. Watch your own creative power in action.
The kid across the street just set off another loud fire cracker. Guess he had one sitting around from last night. It doesn't matter the noise, I still feel hooked into the sense of wonder from my earlier meditation.
I like that - and I get a sense of wonder then in my own identity.
Today I'll remember who I am and feel awe.
Now that it's quiet, still, I can sit in meditation and get still myself. When I let myself stay that way, unruffled, I get this sense of wonder. It's worth it to stay completely open like this, and stick with what's real.
I feel as if I can sense everything in the stillness here, and as I do I'm aware of this overriding sense of conscious knowing, inside myself, but on the outside too. Here, always, always, connected to the fullness of life even when it feels like I am alone.
Why would any of us ever feel isolated, orphaned, as we sometimes do, when that state is not what's actually happening? Whether we like it or not we're here, alive, hooked into everything around us, and that's a pretty powerful feeling.
Collectively we have the power to create and destroy. Try it today. Even if you think you have no creative power, test it out. Approach the world around you with soft love. See if you can beat out harmony, comfort and acceptance in any situation you find yourself today. Watch your own creative power in action.
The kid across the street just set off another loud fire cracker. Guess he had one sitting around from last night. It doesn't matter the noise, I still feel hooked into the sense of wonder from my earlier meditation.
I like that - and I get a sense of wonder then in my own identity.
Today I'll remember who I am and feel awe.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Kindness
Today I remember to approach those closest to me with loving kindness.
My husband, daughter and I re-painted the inside of our house together recently. It's the first time we've actually rolled on the paint ourselves, and worked as team to get such a large, physical job done. Okay, I'll be honest, my husband did most of the technical work, the corners by the ceiling, moving the heavy furniture, directing my daughter and I with the rollers. Our house was looking shabby before the repainting, and it was necessary for all three of us to work together to get the job done.
At times during the process one or all three of us lost our temper. Again, if I'm honest, I'm the one who lost it more often; the smell of the paint, having to decide as a team the colors we wanted, (we ended up mixing two of them together to satisfy both my daughter and I,) and the general challenge of working together got to me more than once. I found myself approaching my husband in an antagonistic, defensive manner. That is when I saw just how accusatory and unkind I can be with people I care about the most.
It's funny, but in lots of ways it's easier to be kind to strangers: checkers at the grocery store, the mail carrier, the man I buy fish from at the Farmer's Market. Then you can smile, be charming, put your best face forward because your ego's not invested. Kindness comes pretty easily in dealing with neighbors and colleagues also; after all I don't live with them.
But in dealing with those most beloved to me, the ego kicks in quick, feels threatened, and during the house painting I could literally feel my body tightening up at points. I even blurted out a couple times: "Forget it! Our house is old and shabby and what we should really do is move!" We have to put our daughter through college in a few years; we can't afford to move.
We cling and then attack loved ones so easily because we're terrified of being abandoned. Our mind gets muddled and we attack to avoid facing our biggest fear - that the time we've invested with those near and dear to us was wasted, that in the end we don't deserve love and we better attack, get out of there, before they figure it out and attack us. I guess I felt pretty incompetent as a house painter.
Control issues are fear issues. We think we don't deserve the direct, all encompassing love beating right at us from our Beloved Ones. We secretly feel lacking, undeserving of love from friends, family, even ourselves.
The person to send loving kindness to first is our self. I've been repeating "I am worthy," over and over again as a mantra, and then extending that kindness to Self right back at my husband, daughter and those closest to me. It's like a balm for the tension.
The painting's done now, and our house is bright and fresh instead of shabby. It's still pretty small, but it works for the three of us. It was nice to clean out the cobwebs and repaint. Staying and working together in it is an act of bravery and kindness. But recognizing the tightening and the fear response was a necessary prelude to cleaning out my internal home, and sharing it with kindness.
"I am worthy, I am worthy, I am worthy" over and over again. And then the kindness just takes over at home, where it matters the most.
My husband, daughter and I re-painted the inside of our house together recently. It's the first time we've actually rolled on the paint ourselves, and worked as team to get such a large, physical job done. Okay, I'll be honest, my husband did most of the technical work, the corners by the ceiling, moving the heavy furniture, directing my daughter and I with the rollers. Our house was looking shabby before the repainting, and it was necessary for all three of us to work together to get the job done.
At times during the process one or all three of us lost our temper. Again, if I'm honest, I'm the one who lost it more often; the smell of the paint, having to decide as a team the colors we wanted, (we ended up mixing two of them together to satisfy both my daughter and I,) and the general challenge of working together got to me more than once. I found myself approaching my husband in an antagonistic, defensive manner. That is when I saw just how accusatory and unkind I can be with people I care about the most.
It's funny, but in lots of ways it's easier to be kind to strangers: checkers at the grocery store, the mail carrier, the man I buy fish from at the Farmer's Market. Then you can smile, be charming, put your best face forward because your ego's not invested. Kindness comes pretty easily in dealing with neighbors and colleagues also; after all I don't live with them.
But in dealing with those most beloved to me, the ego kicks in quick, feels threatened, and during the house painting I could literally feel my body tightening up at points. I even blurted out a couple times: "Forget it! Our house is old and shabby and what we should really do is move!" We have to put our daughter through college in a few years; we can't afford to move.
We cling and then attack loved ones so easily because we're terrified of being abandoned. Our mind gets muddled and we attack to avoid facing our biggest fear - that the time we've invested with those near and dear to us was wasted, that in the end we don't deserve love and we better attack, get out of there, before they figure it out and attack us. I guess I felt pretty incompetent as a house painter.
Control issues are fear issues. We think we don't deserve the direct, all encompassing love beating right at us from our Beloved Ones. We secretly feel lacking, undeserving of love from friends, family, even ourselves.
The person to send loving kindness to first is our self. I've been repeating "I am worthy," over and over again as a mantra, and then extending that kindness to Self right back at my husband, daughter and those closest to me. It's like a balm for the tension.
The painting's done now, and our house is bright and fresh instead of shabby. It's still pretty small, but it works for the three of us. It was nice to clean out the cobwebs and repaint. Staying and working together in it is an act of bravery and kindness. But recognizing the tightening and the fear response was a necessary prelude to cleaning out my internal home, and sharing it with kindness.
"I am worthy, I am worthy, I am worthy" over and over again. And then the kindness just takes over at home, where it matters the most.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Family and Unmasking Self
Today I remember to expand my definition of family. In order to do that I'll need to reveal, unravel myself.
I've been visiting my folks this past week, and fortunately for me they live in Sedona, Arizona. If you've never been there, it's an inherently mystical place. Some say there are vortexes, pools of strong life energy all over those majestic red rocks. Those canyons resonate with the feel of earlier residents, Native American cultures, primitive and in touch with the elements.
Years ago when my parents first retired I would visit them there for a sense of security. I'd bring my daughter when she was a baby and we'd both sit for a week and soak up the love and security of the place, of my parents in that place without much thought.
Now, my folks are older, faced with the challenges of their age, and my daughter and I are visiting not so much as tourists seeking an escape, but to check in and reconnect with them. The visits have a different feel. The trick now is to accept the changes in my parents' lives, and to not get hung up on preconditioned patterns that extend back through my childhood, when I often played the role of over achiever, back to their own stories with their families when they grew up as the son and daughter of Italian immigrants. I'm realizing that the individuals in families fall into patterns, that those patterns have repercussions that extend from generation to generation. How does a father treat his individual daughters without pigeon holing them? How does a mother keep from pushing her own daughter into preconditioned roles and expectations? How should a couple, together for nearly fifty years, the matriarch and patriarch of their own small family treat each other?
The conditioning from the past boomeranged into my visit with my folks more than ever this time. In order to connect with both of them, and enjoy them and the stories I had to allow myself to be unmasked, to recognize the conditioning from the past for what it is: a cover up, a mask for the self beneath it. Then I was able to see the individuals that are real, beyond the role playing of son, daughter, mother, father. The distorted way I've been conditioned to view them is not who they are.
When I could see through their masks, I become more able to get rid of my own cover up also, to dig into the Truth of who we all are. And that is when the largeness of my actual family hit me. I allowed myself to see everyone, not just my blood relatives as family, and to make an effort to see all of them, everyone, unmasked also.
Now I'm back in LA, but I'm remembering, as I interact with everyone around me, to expand my definition of family. I working on looking beyond the masks.
I've been visiting my folks this past week, and fortunately for me they live in Sedona, Arizona. If you've never been there, it's an inherently mystical place. Some say there are vortexes, pools of strong life energy all over those majestic red rocks. Those canyons resonate with the feel of earlier residents, Native American cultures, primitive and in touch with the elements.
Years ago when my parents first retired I would visit them there for a sense of security. I'd bring my daughter when she was a baby and we'd both sit for a week and soak up the love and security of the place, of my parents in that place without much thought.
Now, my folks are older, faced with the challenges of their age, and my daughter and I are visiting not so much as tourists seeking an escape, but to check in and reconnect with them. The visits have a different feel. The trick now is to accept the changes in my parents' lives, and to not get hung up on preconditioned patterns that extend back through my childhood, when I often played the role of over achiever, back to their own stories with their families when they grew up as the son and daughter of Italian immigrants. I'm realizing that the individuals in families fall into patterns, that those patterns have repercussions that extend from generation to generation. How does a father treat his individual daughters without pigeon holing them? How does a mother keep from pushing her own daughter into preconditioned roles and expectations? How should a couple, together for nearly fifty years, the matriarch and patriarch of their own small family treat each other?
The conditioning from the past boomeranged into my visit with my folks more than ever this time. In order to connect with both of them, and enjoy them and the stories I had to allow myself to be unmasked, to recognize the conditioning from the past for what it is: a cover up, a mask for the self beneath it. Then I was able to see the individuals that are real, beyond the role playing of son, daughter, mother, father. The distorted way I've been conditioned to view them is not who they are.
When I could see through their masks, I become more able to get rid of my own cover up also, to dig into the Truth of who we all are. And that is when the largeness of my actual family hit me. I allowed myself to see everyone, not just my blood relatives as family, and to make an effort to see all of them, everyone, unmasked also.
Now I'm back in LA, but I'm remembering, as I interact with everyone around me, to expand my definition of family. I working on looking beyond the masks.
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